


over and under

by emavee



Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, CPR, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Robin, Drowning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: Dick is so much smaller than him, nearly a full foot shorter. The water will be over his son’s head before it even reaches Bruce’s chin.Whumptober alt. prompt 12: water
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948276
Comments: 5
Kudos: 305





	over and under

The first thing he registers, before even beginning the process of prying his eyes open, is the chill. It’s not cold, not really, not for mid-fall in Gotham at least, but there’s a strong breeze whipping around, stinging his face where the cowl doesn’t cover.

The next thing he notices is the smell: salt, and the foul scent of pollution lingering just below it. The smell draws his attention to the soft and rhythmic sound of crashing waves. The ocean, then, or some other body of salt water. He would spend some time trying to piece together his exact location, but the sight that awaits him once he blearily blinks his eyes open is far more pressing.

It’s dark out, but bright colors of the Robin suit stand out against the watercolor wash of navy and green and gray. Dick is slumped over as much as he can be in his bonds—the same thick, heavy chain that winds around Batman’s torso and secures him tightly to the algae-splattered wooden pillar. Bruce can only see the top of his head, tangled dark hair blowing in the breeze. 

Whatever they dosed Batman with must have been too much for Robin’s smaller frame. There’s no telling how long it will be until the boy wakes up. Bruce hopes it’s sooner rather than later. They’ve stripped Batman of his gear, but perhaps they neglected to search Robin with the same degree of scrupulousness—their enemies often make the mistake of underestimating Robin, it wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, Bruce would much prefer to see Dick’s eyes open, if only for his own peace of mind. He wants to rule out any chance of overdose.

They’re under a pier, boots heavy and water-logged as they stand in the first seven inches or so of water. And while Bruce isn’t quite sure where they are, doesn’t know about the tide schedule, he can tell that the water is coming in. He hopes that whoever tied them up here plans to return for some sort of interrogation, but he isn’t overly optimistic. More than likely, they’ve been abandoned here.

As he waits, the silence growing more and more troubling, it becomes increasingly obvious that the tide is coming in, the water rising far quicker than Bruce is even remotely comfortable with. Judging by the line far above their heads where algae slime meets bleached wood, it will eventually be more than deep enough to drown them.

Bruce struggles harder with the chains.

* * *

Dick wakes up around the time that the water reaches Bruce’s knees. It’s nearly at Dick’s waist now, cold and uncomfortable through his much thinner costume if the way his teeth chatter just slightly is any indication.

“B?” Dick calls, chin finally lifting from his chest. He looks alright, if a bit pale. That could be from either the drugs or the cold, but neither are at the height of Bruce’s worries right now.

“Robin,” he replies. Dick smiles, just slightly, at the sound of his voice, before it slides away as he glances around at their current predicament. 

“What are we working with?” Dick asks, jumping into action even though his voice is still slightly slurred with grogginess. He wriggles slightly, testing his own bonds.

“I think the chains are welded shut,” Bruce admits. “At least mine are.”

Dick feels around for a while, then his mouth thins out to a pinched line. “Mine too.”

Bruce curses internally. Okay, so that’s not great, but they still have options. There’s always a way out. They're Batman and Robin. “Did they leave with any of your gear?”

Dick shakes his head. “Nope. Got my comm too.” He bites his lip, frowning a little in Bruce's direction. “Um, do you… do you have a plan to get out of here?”

“I’ll figure something out, Robin,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Dick’s smile is small and weak, but Bruce holds onto it like a lifeline. He’ll get them out of here, get Robin somewhere safe and dry. There is no other option.

* * *

They’re silent for a while, each of them putting their full concentration into trying to escape. But the silence is almost haunting, and the rising cold water makes discomfort settle heavy in his muscles. It must be getting to Dick, who has never really done well with silence in the first place, because the kid starts to ramble around the time the water reaches his chest.

He’s scared, Bruce realizes. Dick only babbles like this when he’s frightened of something and doesn’t want Bruce to know. Of course he is.  _ Bruce  _ is scared. The water is coming in too fast, and every one of his efforts to get free have been futile. 

Dick is so much smaller than him, nearly a full foot shorter. The water will be over his head before it even reaches Bruce’s chin. If he doesn’t figure something out, he will be forced to watch his son drown right in front of him. The thought makes him sick, chills him down to his bones and makes the cold water seem like a warm bath in comparison.

Dick is only fourteen. He’s just a child. A  _ child, _ young and precious and the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Bruce. Bruce cannot watch him drown, he just can't. He has been beaten and tortured in a thousand different ways, but he can't think of anything worse than watching Dick die. 

* * *

He’s so cold now, and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water and everything to do with how little time Dick has left.

Dick’s head is tilted back in an effort to keep his mouth and nose above the water, but he’s coughing and spluttering already, unable to stop some of the water from getting into his mouth. 

“B—” Dick gasps.

“Shh,” Bruce hushes him. “Just focus on breathing, kiddo. You’ll be okay. Help is coming.” At least he hopes help is coming. He  _ prays _ help is coming. By his calculations, Dick only has a few more minutes before the water is completely above his head. 

“B—” he tries again, this time gagging on the waves, sending him into a panicked coughing fit. He stops trying to talk.

“Superman!” Bruce shouts again, for what has to be at least the eighth time—all his shame about having to call for help completely gone as he watches Dick struggle. “Kal-El!” 

And then Dick is completely under the water. Bruce can see him straining and thrashing, trying to free himself and get his head back above water, but it’s not working. He’s stuck. He’s drowning.

“Superman!” 

Dick’s struggles grow weaker and weaker, and then suddenly they stop. No more air bubbles float to the surface, the dark head of hair completely still except for the gentle back and forth of the water.

Three minutes. Dick still has three minutes. Three more measly minutes before it’s too late and Bruce can’t save him.

“Superman!” he bellows, voice raw and breaths starting to come in panicked gasps. Batman doesn’t panic, not like this, but Batman isn’t here right now. He’s just Bruce Wayne, watching someone he loves die right in front of his eyes and it’s even worse than the first time. He didn’t even know that it was possible to hurt like this. “Kal-fucking-El get your ass over here now!”  _ Please! _

He stares at Dick, mouth suddenly glued shut as panic chokes him. Dick is just floating there, limp and still beneath the dark, murky water. Bruce can barely see him anymore, just flashes of the colors of his costume. Dick is never this still. It’s just so  _ wrong _ on him.

“Batman!” He tears his gaze away from Dick, never in his life so glad to hear Superman’s voice. “I got here as soon as I—”

“Robin!” Bruce orders immediately. There is no time to explain the situation. Dick has been underwater for too long. He needs to get him out. There is no more time.

Clark follows his gaze and Bruce knows the moment when he spots Dick under the water because suddenly his own terror is being mirrored back at him.

“I got him, Bruce,” Clark says with a single determined nod before he disappears behind the wooden pillar. A moment later, Bruce can hear the sound of chains snapping under superhuman strength.

“Dick,” Bruce gasps. “Dick!” 

In an instant, Clark is untangling Dick from the chains, pulling him up and out of the water. He sags and flops in Clark’s arms, boneless,  _ lifeless. _ His chest doesn’t move, lips blue and skin nearly grey as his head lolls back onto Clarks shoulder. Bruce only gets to look at his son for a few seconds before Superman is flying off, taking Dick with him.

It’s agony, waiting and waiting as the water rises to his chin, spraying salt into his mouth. Is Dick still alive? Does he need CPR? Clark is too strong, and Dick is too small. He’ll break his ribs. Bruce needs to be there, needs to hold him, needs to make sure he’s okay. He strains his ears, listening for the sounds of coughing or gasping, sounds of life, but he can’t hear anything over his own roaring heartbeat and the waves crashing against the shore.

_ Please, Dick. Please don’t leave me, kiddo. Please. _

It’s practically an eternity before Clark reappears, now half-soaked and devoid of his cape but Bruce doesn’t care about any of that.

“Where’s Dick?” he demands immediately, spitting out seawater.

“He’s up on the pier, Bruce,” Clark tries to reassure him. “He’s okay. He’s breathing. He’s going to be okay.” Bruce won’t believe a word of it until he gets to see Dick, living and breathing, with his own two eyes.

His own chains snap, and Bruce shrugs them off, desperate to get out. He has to get to Dick. Before he can even say another word, Clark grabs him and they’re flying, hurtling upwards.

Bruce is wrenching himself out of Clark’s grasp before he can deposit him carefully onto the pier. He stumbles over to where Dick lies soaked and shivering on the wood, Superman’s cape hastily tucked around him. There’s a halo of water around his soaked hair, and an even bigger puddle near his head where he’d presumably emptied his lungs.

“Robin,” Bruce whispers, crashing to his knees. “ _ Dick. _ ”

Dick groans, pressing his temple against the wood, and it’s the greatest noise Bruce has ever heard.

“You’re okay, Dick,” he murmurs, hand carding through wet curls, the other resting gently between his shoulder blades. “You’re okay. Just breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

“Breathin’,” Dick mumbles back. Bruce laughs, he really tries to, but he knows it sounds more like a sob. Dick tilts his head just slightly, slightly-unfocused gaze finding Bruce. “You okay?”

All Bruce can do is nod, the lump in his throat too thick to speak around. He gathers Dick up in his arms, and Dick coughs only once as he gets him settled leaning against his chest. Each breath is a puff of air against Bruce’s neck, which normally would be a little annoying but is currently just a constant reminder that his son is breathing again. That he’s still alive. That he’s going to be alright.

Bruce stands carefully, knowing better than to jostle Dick too much in case he’s at all hypothermic. Clark sends him a silent offer to take Dick for him, but Bruce just shakes his head. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of Dick even if he wanted to.

_ He’s alive, _ Bruce reminds himself with every breath.  _ He’s safe. _

“Let’s get you home, okay?” he murmurs against Dick’s cold, wet hair.

“Home,” Dick agrees sleepily, settling further into Bruce’s arms. “Home sounds good.”

Yeah, home sounds really, really good.


End file.
